by Shawn McLain
“That wasn’t her that I almost hit? Was it?” He slurred trying to focus on Corey’s face.
“No, that was some crazy old bitch.” Corey pulled out his phone. He called Beth, she did not answer. “I bet she got that little emo puke to come get her.” He snarled. “This was a total waste of time.” Corey advanced on his friend, “You thought she might go for you didn’t you?”
“Wha? Dude thas just shtupid, you better hope it wash Wesh and not her brother.” Lance defended while backing away. “I’m just lookin out for ya Bro.” He weaved over to his car and grabbed the bottle of bourbon.
“You know it was Wesley. He is the only person who wouldn’t have anything else to do tonight. How else would he get out here so fast?” Corey snarled grabbing the bottle. Lance merely hiccupped and shrugged taking back the bourbon. He shook the bottle frowning at the little that was left.
“Like he has a chance with her.” Corey grabbed the bottle back from Lance and drained it. Throwing the empty into the woods, he gave a frustrated yell. “What the hell is wrong with her?”
“Yeah, how coulds shom one reshist your charm?” Lance laughed.
Corey opened his mouth but stopped, spinning on the spot at the sound of an animal crashing through the brush just out of their headlight glare. He strained his eyes to see what it was. Only darkness stared back.
“Well, you didn’t get anywhere, maybe she prefers…” Lance started but was silenced by the look he received from Corey. Smirking, Lance decided to get a fresh bottle and not finish his thought. Instead he asked, “So what do you want to do about it?” An evil grin spread across his face.
“Oh, we’ll get him. I doubt the tires on that hunk of shit he drives are long for this world.” Corey spat.
“We’ll do it tomorrow night. I want to hit the party tonight.” Lance said as he stumbled over to the edge of the road.
Corey nodded, “Come on man let’s go! I need to get wasted after this crap.”
Lance waved over his shoulder, “I’ll catch up. I gotta take a piss.”
“All right, I’ll meet you over at Linda’s” Corey put his car in gear and sped off.
Lance listened as the car rumbled down the road. Swaying slightly, he began to relieve himself. The snapping of a fallen branch reached his ears. He looked up as something large was moving around in the brush. Straining to see through the darkness and his alcohol impaired vision, he staggered slightly and lost his balance for a second. Shaking his head, he decided it was nothing. He began to stagger back to his car. He slipped on the grass and tripped over a log.
“Shit!” he laughed. “Guess I’m pretty messed up.”
“UUUUNNNGGHHHH” came out of the darkness. He flipped over, staring around for the cause of the sound. Even in his stupor, fear gripped his heart.
“Who’s there?” He shouted. Another groan and the heavy rustling of leaves and brush answered him. A figured appeared in the pool of light from his car’s headlights. His head snapped around to the shadow cast across his vision.
He looked up and saw a woman, the woman he almost hit, shuffling toward him. She was dragging a leg that was covered in blood. The front of her shirt was also stained deep, dark red. She held out one arm toward him and she was moaning as she continued closer and closer.
Lance pushed himself up to his feet and stared at the woman. “You OK, lady?” He asked in a whisper as he began to back away.
A crashing sound to his left alerted him to the presence of a man. His face was bruised and bloody. His teeth were bared as he moved toward Lance. Lance began to edge toward his car when an arm grabbed him by the throat and pain shot through his shoulder.
He wrenched himself free and spun in shock to look into the gaunt face of another woman. Fresh blood, his blood, dribbled down her chin. The man grabbed him as he backed away from the shriveled woman. Fresh pain burst forth from his arm as the man bit into his flesh. Lance screamed to the trees and empty bridge as the pale woman from the road joined the other two.
A couple of hours later, Corey mumbled something about Lance never making it to the party then passed out. Linda and Wayne didn’t notice.
It Started as a Nice Day
Lying in bed, Wes relived the events of the night over and over in his mind before falling into a fitful sleep. His dreams began with Beth but ended with the man that had been banging on his hood. The man was coughing, pounding and, scraping on his door trying to get him. Wes woke up terrified; it took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. He stared around the room for a moment before he realized it was morning and he was safe at home.
Wes hurried down the stairs feeling happier than he had in months. The morning couldn’t move fast enough knowing he had a date with Beth that day. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, his good mood met its first trial.
His mother got quickly up from her chair in the living room and hushed him. His stepfather was sleeping on the couch. “He couldn’t sleep in the bed last night. He kept coughing,” she whispered leading Wes into the kitchen.
“I was going to go over to Beth’s later.” Wes looked back into the living room at the back of the couch. “Do you want me to stay home to help take care of him?”
His mother gave him an appraising look and smiled. “No, no. I’ll call if I need you. He seems to be sleeping finally. It might be better if I got you out of the house for a while actually. You are always such a troublemaker.”
“You know me, Mom. Loud and distruptive.” He gave his mother a hug then sat on the counter as she made herself a cup of coffee. He grabbed an apple from a basket on the counter. Hopping down he pulled his mother into another hug, “Seriously Mom,” he looked her straight in the eye, “call me if you need me, OK?”
“You’re such a good boy.” She smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
Making a gagging noise, he smiled at his mother and slipped out of the house. His good mood disintegrated almost immediately. In the driveway sat his car with four flat tires. Something Corey had decided on when he left Wayne by the side of the road.
Wes swore then snuck back into the house. His mother was still in the kitchen, she looked at him questioningly. He whispered his explanation. Then retreated to his room, anger making him shake from head to foot. Pacing his room a few times to calm himself, Wes dialed Beth’s number.
“Hey when are you coming over?” She asked happily.
“Not for a while, seems that someone flattened my tires. Mom wants me to call the police.” Wes explained.
“Oh Wes, I’m so sorry. Do you think it was Corey?”
“I would bet anything. Tell you what, let me call the call cops and get this sorted out. Shouldn’t take more than an hour or two.”
“Do what you need to. I’m not going anywhere. Oh and just so you know I told Steve about what Corey did. He is pissed. I’ll let him know about your tires. He may have an old set in the garage.”
“Thanks, Beth. I’ll call you in a bit.” Wes hung up and dialed the police. There was no answer. He didn’t think this warranted a 911 call but he had tried all the extensions the automated service would allow. He tried again. He had been at it for twenty minutes when his mother knocked on his door.
“Reg is worse. We are out of cold medicine. I am running out to the store, please stay home and keep an eye on him until I get back.” Wes could see how scared his mother was. He hadn’t seen her look like this since before they left his real father.
Wes stepped into the living room to see his stepfather looking pale and sweating. He was asleep so Wes crept back up to his room. Closing the door he called Beth.
“What did the police say?” Beth asked.
“I never got through. Reg is really sick so Mom went out to get some meds. I’m going to hang out til she gets back then head over, if that is cool?”
“That seems to be going around. Dad said several guys didn’t make it in to work. That’s why he had to go in today.” Beth explained. “Not enough people to handle the work.”<
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“Yeah apparently Reg is coughing and feverish. Mom is really worried.” Wes felt better talking to Beth. He always felt better talking to her. The McDaniels had always been there for him and his mom. Beth’s dad had actually introduced Reggie to Wes’ mother.
“Apparently it is some kind of an epidemic.” Beth explained. “Steve is out talking to another school about a playing and Dad is at work so I’ve been watching TV. It is on all he channels.”
Wes turned on his own TV and began to flip. As he changed the channel all the news channels were reporting on the illness. There had been several reports of violence; people attacking each other, sometimes for medicine but most others seem random. There were even unconfirmed reports of people being killed in horribly violent ways. Speculation that fever from the illness was leading to a kind of insanity or maybe a new form of airborne rabies was at the center of the attacks. The more they saw the tighter the knot in Wes’ stomach grew.
Wes’ fear for his stepfather got worse with every report. When they saw a live report out of New York get cut off as people ran screaming from the subway Wes was near panic. Beth began trying to calm him when Wes’ mother called for him to come help her.
“The news says all the hospitals and emergency clinics are overwhelmed with sick people.” Wes told his mother.
“I know. The stores have been picked over I almost got mugged trying to get this out the door.” She held up a tattered box of daytime cold medicine.
“Take the gun next time. That will show em.” Wes joked. His mother was not amused. Reg began to cough and moan.
Horde beginning
The woods were normally full of sound. Birds chirping and leaves rustling with animals scurrying about. Today it was silent. All the animals could sense there was something there that shouldn’t be, something very, very, wrong. The group that was wandering through the forest definitely did not belong there.
Several were covered in dried mud and blood. Some in nightclothes, other clothes were torn and filthy, one wore nothing at all. Then there were the ones with just a grey pallor and no sign of injuries. They might have just wandered into the woods for a walk and met up with these other folks. The group was mixed with young and old, black and white all searching for the same thing, all lumbering at the same plodding pace.
Reaching the edge of the woods the group paused momentarily, blinded for a second by the bright morning sun in clouded milky eyes. They moaned the ones in the back pushing the ones in the front forward. The group began to cross the open ground.
Confusion crossed the disfigured faces of the leaders as barbed wire cut into their waists stopping their progress. Further and further it pressed through as more ghouls pressed from behind. The wooden posts snapped and protested against the growing weight. The top half of a woman parted company with its legs. Free from the fence she began to crawl ahead of the others. The posts snapped, several bodies fell when the resistance disappeared, pulling the rest of the fence down with them. The ones behind did not notice the ones they stepped on and over on their way to the farm house.
The horse in the paddock whinnied and stamped the ground. The group was crossing the field of harvested corn. As they approached the animal became more panicked, the wind bringing with it the unmistakable reek of death. Further in the back of the crowd one creature struggled as it drug half of the fence, still embedded into its stomach. Further back still the half ghoul crawled along leaving its legs trampled and broken its innards trailing gore behind it. Where the fence once stood lay a body that did not stir. The horse bucked and neighed, banging on the fence and gate.
Jim rubbed his weary eyes as he walked to the window. The horse was making a terrible racket, he worried it would wake the boys. He and his wife had spent a sleepless night with their two sons who had come down with the terrible flu that they were hearing about on the news. The high fever and stomach cramps had kept the boys in terrible pain all night. No matter what they tried the boys found no relief or comfort. Finally near dawn the older boy fell into a restless sleep followed by his brother.
Both were drenched in sweat, Jim’s wife kept replacing the damp cloths on their foreheads with cool ones. Jim had taken an early morning shift so she could get some rest. She was back now at the boy’s side. Jim did not want to have the boys woken by the horse.
“Jim we’re going to have to take them to the hospital if this fever doesn’t break soon.” She whispered. Jim cringed but nodded. Money was very tight and their insurance not very good, but this was his boys.
His mind filled with worry for his sons and how he was going to pay for their treatment. He turned the knob and stepped out into the sunlight. If his attention wasn’t so distracted he may have noticed how wrong things were outside his door. Pulling on his hat to shield his tired eyes from the bright sun he looked down as he headed to the paddock. Reaching the fence he called to his frantic horse.
“You need to be quiet. We just got the boys to sleep.” He scolded while walking over to the gate where the horse stamped the ground. Jim opened it in an attempt to calm the animal. As soon as the gate was unlatched the horse reared then burst through running as is if the devil were chasing him.
Knocked over by the force of the gate Jim swore after the beast. Pulling himself to his feet with the aid of the fence Jim dusted himself off angrily. Not only did he have the boys to worry about now he had a horse to find. Halfway through a swipe at his pants Jim caught a glimpse of the oncoming crowd. They were three quarters of the way across the field, somewhere between twenty or thirty people.
They must, must have been in a bus crash or something, something other than what he swore they couldn’t be. Terror and disbelief rooted him to the ground until the scream from the house pulled him back to reality. His wife burst through the back door as he ran to it. She was bleeding from her arms and hands.
“The boys the boys” was all her panic would let he scream. Behind her Jim could see his boys clawing at the screen door, blood covering their mouths and teeth. Seeing the oncoming horde she let out another scream. Jim pulled her along to the truck parked beside the house. Frantically he grabbed at his pockets, keys! Where were the keys? A memory flashed through his mind, a memory of tossing the truck keys onto the table when he brought home the cold medicine. His wife screamed again when a spiky haired kid with the torn shirt and face appeared at the back of the truck. Jim turned pulling his wife toward the barn. The sight of his oldest boy halted their movements. He was on his mother before Jim could even react. The blonde boy was now ripping into her neck as his son bit into her leg.
Jim ran to the barn, the screams of his wife chasing him. Skidding to a halt, his way was blocked by three of them. Turning he ran to the house, his footsteps thundered on the wooden porch, the front door slammed behind him. Jim clicked the lock, pushed the large chest by the window in front of the door. He spun on the spot, windows, too many windows and the noise was too loud, the back door! Jim ran to the back of the house, the back screen door stood torn and open. Several undead approached. Jim slid across the bloody kitchen floor, crying out he slammed the door shut in the faces of the ghouls.
Gasping for breath, his blood pounded in his ears. He never heard the soft footfalls of his youngest son. The pain ripped through his upper thigh, blood flowed heavy from the wound. Jim threw the child from him. Limping he grabbed the keys from the table. He was at the front door, the chest was moved, the door opened. He could hear his son behind him, they were in front of him, beside him. Black tunnels obscured his vision he was cold, dizzy, he was on his back. Horrid faces staring down, hands began to grab he could feel the tugs, the pain was far away.
The ranks of the group were now swelled by four as the man, his wife, and two children, bloody and torn wandered down the road toward the town.
Getting Bad
Even before entering the living room Wes could tell that Reg was worse, much worse. “I asked you to watch him.” His mother hissed. She hurried to her husband’s side. Pla
cing a hand on his forehead she called to her son. “Get me a wet wash cloth.”
“How is he?” Wes asked his mother, placing a hand on her shoulder. She hugged it with her face and shoulder while she held the damp cloth to her husband’s forehead.
Reginald Baker lay on the couch gripping a blanket around him tightly. He also had three other blankets covering him. Sweat poured off his head while he shivered violently under the heap of covers. His skin was pale, his eyes half closed. Suddenly he erupted in a fit of coughing. It was a harsh dry hacking cough. It sounded as if it was ripping at Reg’s throat and lungs. It hurt Wes’ chest just to hear it.
“Do you need me to go back out and get try to get something?” Wes asked his mother.
“I don’t know. No. There was nothing left when I was just out. We’ll probably have to get more. I just don’t know when they’ll get more. It seems everyone is sick. ” She sighed. “It just, nothing seems to help. I don’t want to give him anything else, he’s had these and these already.” She motioned to the open boxes of could relief and bottles of cough syrup. “I was just hoping to find something better.”
“Well this is something to look forward to.” Wes shuddered while rubbing his chest. Walking around the couch he knelt down to check on Reg. “How you feeling old dude?”
Reg gave a weak smile that turned into another coughing fit. “I don’t feel the best right now kiddo.” He wheezed, “But I’ll be fine soon.” He tried to give his wife a reassuring smile. He then shivered and wrapped himself more tightly in the blanket.
“Grab another blanket form the closet will you?” Wes’ mother asked. He hurried to the closet, every step the concern within him grew. Returning to the couple he held out the last blanket they had, Reg seemed to be covered in all the others.